


Family Intervention

by Quarra, xantissa



Series: No Wolves Allowed [6]
Category: Castlevania: Lords of Shadow, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Brief explicit descriptions of sex, But no smut sorry!, Don’t copy to another site, Drama, Families of Choice, Family Drama, Fluff, Friends as Family, Humor, Incest, M/M, Non explict mention of child death and experimentation, Sass, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 04:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17358785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarra/pseuds/Quarra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: The time has come for Geralt to introduce his lovers to his friends. It goes well. Nobody dies.





	Family Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> From Quarra: I have taken some liberties with a few details of the witcher world, though it should still bare a resemblance to what you are familiar with if you play the games. The biggest change is Vesemir does not look quite as old as he does in the game. We give a full description of him in the text, but I figured I'd add another mention of it here just extra warn. Also, Eskel doesn't have a child of surprise in our verse, basically because I didn't care for that plot. He got his scars from monster fights like a proper witcher. 
> 
> If you aren't familiar with canon for the Witcher world, don't worry. We explain everything in the text. Those who are, keep your eyes peeled for easter eggs and changes!
> 
> This fic won't make much sense unless you read [No Wolves Allowed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16743112/chapters/39277615), though you can probably get away with skipping the others. It does directly reference stuff that happened in [Wolf Stories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194730), but you don't need to know the details to understand what's going on.
> 
> A big thanks to RemingtonFae for beta reading! You are a gem!

“You’re sure that your friends will react well?” Alucard wasn’t quite frowning, but Geralt could read the worry on the set of his shoulders and the tension in his jaw. They sat around a small campfire deep in the woods about half a day’s ride from Kaer Morhen, the ruined home base of the Wolf school witchers.

After Geralt had returned from his first trip to Dracula’s castle, changed and bound in new and unexpected ways, he had asked Ciri to spread the word and request the meeting. There was no way to avoid them noticing the changes in him; it was better to explain himself than wait for their speculations to arise.

Doing it all at once was the best way to make sure that none of them got half a story and decided that the best way to ‘help’ was to go hunting Dracula. That was the kind of hunt that would only end in tears and death, and there was absolutely no way Geralt was going to let that happen.

Even aided by Ciri’s magic, Geralt knew it would take a few weeks for everyone to gather up. 

Vesemir was the easiest. He always stayed at Kaer Morhen for the winter, just as many witchers did before the catastrophic attack that destroyed the keep. He was getting on in age, the oldest member of the Wolf School now, and was once the fencing instructor for the school. Geralt learned under him, as did Ciri and Eskel. He was as close to a father figure as many young witchers got.

Eskel and Geralt had just done a hunt together a couple of weeks earlier, so Geralt knew that he was still out and about. During their hunt, Eskel had kept his questions limited but he saw how Geralt had changed. How the scars had faded and his face looked smooth and young again. It had worried him and intrigued him at the same time. Geralt was confident that he’d be arriving to the keep soon, if he hadn’t made it there already.

Lambert was another matter entirely. He and Geralt had never had an easy relationship. Lambert had too much anger and frustration directed towards witchers in general and sometimes Geralt in specific. But for all that, they were friends. They’d fought together and watched each other’s backs many a time. Geralt had hoped he would show, but wouldn’t be shocked if he didn’t.

Those three were the only witchers that Geralt expected to see. Most of the rest of their school was dead or scattered. Probably dead, if he was being honest with himself. They’d no word from any of the others for years and years.

But there were a few people other than witchers that might show up too. _Would_ show, if Ciri had anything to say about it. 

Yennefer and Triss Merigold were both sorceresses. Both were ex-lovers of Geralt’s as well, first Yennefer and then Triss. They were serious relationships, too, though neither worked out for various reasons. Yennefer was extremely temperamental as well as incredibly powerful, and Triss was a creature of politics. Both had loved Geralt, or so he liked to believe, but both had loved using him as a favored tool more. Despite their unrenewed relations and rocky past, they had all stayed friends.

On good days, Geralt liked to think that it was because despite their differences they all truly cared about each other. On bad days, he wondered if it was just because he was too powerful a tool to let set idle for too long. 

The last person Ciri had set out to gather was the bard, Dandelion. He and Geralt had been close friends for years, brought together by their mutual love of wine and women. The first time they’d met, the poor bastard had been running from a deflowered lady’s four older, and very burly, brothers. He’d convinced Geralt to help him out, and that had spiraled into adventure after adventure. 

Dandelion was the only person Geralt knew who was more free with his affections than Geralt himself was, which was actually kind of impressive. Given that it was winter, Dandelion was likely currently embedded in a lush court somewhere, reciting poetry to wealthy patrons while trying to seduce their ladies out from under them. It might be tricky to get him to leave but Geralt had faith in Ciri. She’d know just what to say.

Geralt expected that the witchers would travel by horse to the keep after they’d finished whatever job they were working on. The sorceresses, however, would no doubt just portal over when the time was right, likely with Dandelion in tow. 

When Geralt had explained his plan to Alucard and Dracula, Alucard had insisted on coming with him. _Just in case_ , he’d said. What Dracula thought of it all was hard to tell.

Now the meeting was nigh and Geralt’s nerves had slowly snuck up on him.

“I’m sure they’ll give me hell for it,” Geralt said, finally answering the question after a fair bit of thought. He shook his head and poked at the fire with a stick. 

The two of them sat together on his bedroll, Geralt with his legs crossed and his elbows resting on his knees. Alucard was tucked so closely into his side that one of his own gauntlet clad forearms had entangled with Geralt’s arm. They both shared Geralt’s cloak, though he knew that Alucard didn’t need it. Cold was nothing to a vampire, after all. The air smelled of snow and smoke from the fire but under that was the faint scent of Alucard’s body and power. 

Alucard hummed unhappily. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m fairly sure I’ll get yelled at. Completely sure I’ll get laughed at.” Geralt heaved a sigh. He was not looking forward to that portion of the conversation. “But afterwards I think they’ll understand.”

“It doesn’t matter if they understand. It only matters that they do not try to interfere.” Alucard’s voice was as frigid as the winter night’s air. Such callous talk was unusual for him, but Geralt could hear the worry under his words. Or perhaps that was Dracula’s influence, too.

“They won’t.” He hoped. “I need you to give us some time, though. I need to make sure that...that you’ll be welcome.” Terrible images of his friends and his lover fighting to the death flashed through his mind. It wouldn’t come to that. He really, really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Because regardless of how powerful his friends might be, Dracula was more powerful. And Dracula would not take kindly to anyone meddling with what was _his_ , be that Geralt _or_ Alucard. 

“And it will be easier to convince them of your story if I’m not there,” Alucard finished for him, already resigned to course of action. “I’ll be waiting outside. If you have need of me, just come to the battlements. If you need me more urgently, use the wolf medallion. I’ll hear it, and come for you.”

“Alright.” Geralt sighed and ducked his head, too tired to stay awake, but too nervous to really go to sleep. “Stay the night with me?”

“Of course.” After a bit of shifting, he pulled Geralt down onto the bedroll, carefully keeping them both under the plush warmth of Geralt’s cloak. Then he curled up right on top of Geralt’s body, his head tucked under Geralt’s chin. 

Almost on instinct, Geralt ran a gloved hand through Alucard’s beautiful, silver tresses, relishing the soft length and the sweet smell that floated up with every stroke. Alucard hummed in pleasure and curled his clawed gauntlets into the straps of Geralt’s armor, holding him close.

They both stared into the fire until it died.

\--

By the time dawn hit, Alucard had already changed into his wolf form. He paused to give Geralt one last nuzzle and then slipped into the trees.

It was a smart idea. A white wolf the size of a goddamn draft horse was noticeable. Better that Geralt approach by himself. Even though he knew that Alucard would be watching from the trees, he couldn’t help but miss his lover’s presence at his side. 

It only took a few hours of riding to reach Kaer Morhen. Or what was left of it, anyways. The attack that had devastated their school decades ago left the fortress in pieces. Most of the main building was intact, though it was now crumbling from lack of repair. The walls and battlements had huge holes in them. There just weren’t enough Wolf School witchers left to justify repairing them and that wasn’t even taking into account the cost of such an endeavor. 

More importantly, the secrets that those walls had guarded so well, the formula for the mutation trials that changed normal boys into witchers, had been lost in the fight. There would be no more new members of their school. When the last of them died, Wolf School would die with them. Even if there was a way to bring back the trials, Geralt had to admit to himself that he would be the first to stop it. The survival rate was barely one in ten. There was nothing that would make that kind of death toll acceptable. Nothing. Humans would just have to deal with monsters themselves after the witchers were gone.

With that sort of fate, none of the remaining witchers could bring themselves to rebuild the fortress. Why bother? 

Vesemir still taught the occasional new student, ones without mutations, and once in a while a witcher was given payment in the form of a child. Ciri was one such child, after all. So there was still some life to the keep, but it was a shadow of what it once was.

It still looked like home, though. 

High atop the forward battlement, Geralt’s keen eyes saw Eskel waiting. Geralt gave him a wave, and got a wave in return. They’d be expecting him now. 

He breathed against his nerves and made his way through the front gate. 

Eskel and Vesemir both stood waiting for him just outside the stables. As nervous as Geralt was about the conversation to come, it was still good to see them. 

He pulled back his fur lined hood as soon as he was in range, and gave them both a grin.

Eskel smiled back and waved. He was a touch shorter than Geralt but just as broad. All the Wolf witchers were in peak physical condition. They had to be, to survive on the Path. Eskel’s brown hair was just long enough to be pulled back in a ponytail at the nap of his neck. He might have been a good looking fellow, if not for the massive range of scars that covered half his face; claw marks from a manticore fight. His throat had been slashed years earlier, too, making his voice a dark gravelly sound at the best of times. He had on his typical studded red leather armor with a heavy black winter cloak thrown over it and his two witcher swords were slung on his back. The undamaged side of his face was pink from the cold and his golden cat eyes shined in the evening light.

Vesemir stood next to him, face frozen in shock. The old witcher’s hair had long since gone grey and he also kept it just long enough to tie back. Stubble graced his weathered face and a few faint scars could be seen ranging across chin and one eyebrow. 

All in all, he’d aged well, probably looking to be in his late fifties. Geralt knew damn well that Vesemir had to be at least three hundred years old, though. Maybe four hundred, even. No one knew for sure and Vesemir didn’t talk much about it. The old witcher had been a teacher at Kaer Morhen for centuries and he must have spent time out of the Path before that, too. Hell, he still went out hunting in the spring and summer. Vesemir’s brown leather armor and mail showed all the signs of wear but it was still in good shape, as were the swords on his back.

“Good Gods, boy. The hell did you do?” Vesemir’s face was white as the snow around them.

“I told you he looked different,” Eskel said, unperturbed. 

“Different, yes, but Gods…” The shock must have worn off quickly, because Vesemir was already waving him into the stable, pointing to a freshly prepared stall.

They waited in silence as Geralt settled his horse and shouldered his pack. Geralt knew just how startling his appearance had to be for them, so he ignored the staring entirely. 

“Who all is here?” he asked.

“You’re the last to arrive,” Eskel said. “Lambert showed up a week ago, and I arrived just after him. Ciri dragged Dandelion in yesterday. Triss and Yennefer showed up this morning. You’ve good timing.”

That was a touch surprising considering Geralt had come from Dracula’s castle. Time flowed strange there and he was never quite sure how long each of his visits would actually end up being in his world.

But perhaps the castle knew what Geralt needed to do and stretched time so he’d leave just as everyone had arrived?

That was a vaguely terrifying thought, and one he’d have to ask Dracula about later. Alucard would be no help; he and the castle were civil only by Dracula’s orders. 

“We’ve got your room warmed up for you. Drop your things and join us in the kitchen. Maybe then we can figure out why the hell you pulled everyone out of their winter jobs.” Vesemir’s words were gruff, but Geralt could hear the worry behind them. 

It only took a moment to do just that. The witcher’s rooms were all on one of the upper floors and he made his way there quickly. As nervous as this little meeting made him, Geralt was anxious to sit down with his friends again.

His room was much as he left it. Spacious, but sparse. Witchers weren’t really ones for keeping elaborate amounts of possessions but what little Geralt did have that he didn’t take with him when he traveled was here. Extra bits of armor and several extra weapons lay wrapped up carefully in oiled cloth and stored in chests around the room. Books lined the shelves on one wall. He kept additional alchemy stuff here, too, but most of that was glassware and scrolls. The ingredients went bad too quickly to leave a large stock here when he was out hunting. 

Vesemir was good to his word; there was a fire burning merrily in the fireplace, leaving the room warm enough even in the cold of winter. Extra furs had been spread out over the bed, too. A nice touch. Probably also Vesemir’s doing. He was gruff, but he kept an eye out for all of them.

Geralt didn’t bother to strip out of his armor or swords. None of the other witchers would, either. They lived with their swords constantly on hand. Just being at Kaer Morhen wouldn’t change that. 

Maybe tonight they would all loosen up after a fair bit of drink, food, and hopefully some friendly conversation. But for right now they would all still be dressed for the day.

Privately, Geralt was a little pleased with that bit of routine. He truly didn’t expect his friends to outright attack him, but he’d lived a long and fruitful life by being over prepared. 

Most of his travel stuff he dropped on a table. He kept one of the bags in hand, a satchel filled to the brim with carefully packed bottles of extremely potent liquor, and headed down to the kitchen. A little something to help soothe irritated tempers. 

In more prosperous days, they’d have eaten in the dining hall. Now that room seemed far too large for the paltry number of people left to fill it. The kitchen was a bit homier, with its massive fireplace and large preparation table. Plenty of room for a small handful of people. 

The moment he walked in, activity stopped and everyone just stared.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Yennefer said flatly, dark violet eyes staring at Geralt. She was seated at the prep table, mug of something steaming and hot in one hand. Beautiful, as she always was, and dressed completely in black with white accents. The clothes were very fine make but they were sturdy enough to travel in. Around her shoulders was a loosely wrapped black scarf, something to keep off the winter chill. Every strand of her dark, wavy hair was the perfect amount of tussled. 

The sight of her was always striking but the happiness at seeing her was bittersweet. Even though they were still friends, Geralt still felt a pang of loss that they’d never managed to work things out.

Although now with Dracula and Alucard in his life, that loss wasn’t nearly so bad. It was a soft, distant thing and faded nearly as soon as he felt it. 

“Nooooope,” Ciri said quietly next to her. She was staring, too, but her expression was definitely more resigned. Despite a month having gone by, Ciri looked nearly the same as she did when last Geralt saw her. Same studded armor and sword, same heavy jeweled belt, and same exasperated look. Between her pale hair and the scar on her cheek, she was often thought of as a witcher, too. People assumed she was his daughter by blood and not by Law of Surprise. The green eyes were a dead give away, though. That, and the fact that witchers couldn’t sire children. 

“The fuck did you go and do this time, Wolf?” Lambert sounded almost incredulous. It looked like he was about to toss another log on the massive fire, but the motion had stalled out. 

He had the same eyes and build as the rest of the witchers but that was about as far as the resemblance went. He favored dark armor and mail, and kept himself shaved closely, both on his face and head. Lambert always managed to look like he’d forgotten to touch it up, though, so it left him with a permanently unkempt look. Like the rest of them, he had scars on his face, too; a pair of parallel claw marks that cut down on the very edge of the right side of his face. It was part and parcel with the monster hunting trade. 

“You mean _who_ ,” Ciri said under her breath, taking a deep swig from her glass.

“Nice to see you all, too,” Geralt said with a smirk and moved to take a seat at the table. He set the bag of booze on the floor next to him. They’d need it later, no doubt, but right now sobriety was probably a better plan. Save the liquor for the ‘acceptance’ stage of the coming interrogation.

Eskel slid over a heavy mug of mulled wine to Geralt, and then sat next to him. Vesemir, Triss, and Dandelion were already seated.

Triss looked just as lovely as Yennefer but in a very different way. Her bright red hair shined like a banner in the light of the kitchen and though her clothes were equally fine, they were far more suited to city travel than out on the roads. Both the sorceresses favored tight fitting pants and bodices but Triss liked much warmer colors. 

It was hard not to compare the two women, especially considering his history with both. But they were very different people and it showed in everything about them. Where Yennefer was fierce and defiant, Triss was calm and collected. Yennefer dressed to intimidate while Triss dressed to impress. 

Dandelion looked exactly as Geralt expected. Dressed in the loose fitting, fine court clothes he liked so much, complete with ostentatious feathered hat. He was passably attractive with his smartly trimmed goatee and sharp features, but Dandelion knew as well everyone else that his best assets were his silver tongue and his gift for verse. They’d spent many a night boozing their way through various cities together. Even though Dandelion was the opposite of what witchers usually embodied, he and Geralt got along smashingly. He’d been a loyal friend for many years.

Bubbling over the fire were two separate, vast cauldrons. From the smell of things, one held the mulled wine, and the other some kind of heavy stew. Perfect winter fodder, both filling and warming. 

Geralt took a moment to look around the room. He had other friends aside from those present, some of them quite good friends. But those here were the ones that were closer to family for him.

He wondered what they would think of Dracula and his castle.

“Any day now, Geralt,” Vesemir said dryly. 

“Right,” Geralt shook his head and huffed out a laugh. “Thank you all for showing up. I appreciate it.”

“Yes, yes, happy to see you, good times had by all, blah blah blah.” Dandelion waved a hand at him, urging him along. “Tell us why you look thirty years younger and fifty percent more successful at avoiding axes to the face.”

“Only fifty percent?” Geralt smirked.

“Wellll, maybe seventy-five.” Dandelion smirked back. Then is face sobered. “Seriously, though. What’s the news that dragged me away from Lady de Nessia’s loving embrace? I was no more than a day or two at most from---”

“Getting your balls strung up in a vice by her husband?” Ciri interrupted him, eyebrow raised. 

“It wasn’t that bad. He would have never found out.” Dandelion rolled his eyes and waved. “Off subject, too. Geralt. Spill.”

The silence stretched for a moment as Geralt gathered his thoughts. He slowly ran his thumb along the lip of his mug, stalling for time. 

Weeks and weeks had gone by and he still didn’t have a good idea of how to tell his friends what happened to him. Nothing sounded right. If said the wrong way, the whole story would just make it sound like he was another victim. Or an idiot. While he would admit, if only to himself, that he might actually be sort of a fool on occasion, this time things felt right. 

He took a breath. 

“I met someone. Two someones, actually.” Whatever expressions his friends were making were lost on him, because Geralt specifically kept his eyes on his drink. He didn’t want to see their sarcastic looks, or shock, or disbelief, or whatever else they might be thinking. Geralt knew what his past was like, and he didn’t need them to remind him of all the times things hadn’t worked out. For whatever reason. 

When no one jumped to interrupt him, he continued. 

“They’re…” A pleased little grin spread across his face and he thought of all the things that he loved about Dracula and Alucard. “They’re wonderful. Smart. Dangerous. Beautiful. An odd pair, in more than one way, but...they fit. With each other, and I think with me.”

“I’ve gotta admit, this was not where I was expecting this to go,” Lambert said, finally pulling up a chair at the table, fresh mug in hand. “You looking to get, I donno, married or something? Not a very witcher thing to do. I shoulda known one woman would never be good enough for you, you had to go with two.” His tone was both playful and sarcastic, but Geralt expected as much from him. Lambert didn’t have soft words for very many people. That didn’t mean he didn’t care. He just was shit at expressing it sometimes.

“Men, actually. They’re both men.” Now Geralt looked up, judging reactions. He didn’t think this would be a sticking point for anyone. They all knew him, after all, and his sexual exploits were hardly a secret. 

Of all of them, Yennefer looked the most surprised. The rest had various expressions of acceptance. Ciri just took another drink, face grim. She was waiting for him to get to the truly tricky parts of the story.

“That fight a moon or so ago, the one Ciri and I portaled away from. Something went wrong with the portal and we ended up somewhere else. A castle in another world.” 

“What went wrong?” Triss turned to frown at Ciri. Portals weren’t her specialty, but it was still something she did fairly regularly. Ciri, however, had a unique ability to easily travel through worlds and both Triss and Yennefer were endlessly interested in it.

Ciri just shook her head. “I still don’t know. I have some theories but nothing concrete. It’s possible that something got mixed up in our heads from the fight. Normally, I’d be the only one directing the spell, but maybe some of Geralt’s thoughts leaked in, too. Or maybe there was some subconscious directive that was tapped into. It could have been on the part of the, uh, owners of the castle, too. Or maybe it was just Fate.” She shrugged.

“Fate, huh.” Dandelion squinted at Geralt and tapped his fingers on the table. As much as Geralt dreaded it, this was probably going to end up in some epic poem later on. 

“What happened next?” Eskel forged on. His eyes were dark with suspicion. Clearly he was trying to connect the information he already knew with what Geralt was saying.

“Ciri was unconscious. She reacted badly to the wards placed on the castle, though I didn’t know that at the time. One of the castle inhabitants greeted us and offered to help me with my wounds. I was still pretty cut up from the fight we’d just left.” That brought to mind the baths, and a shy, blushing Alucard slowly undressing him. A seduction well done.

“Ah, the good old, ‘please help me I’m wounded’ thing. Well played!” Dandelion grinned at him. 

The grin didn’t last long because Ciri reached over and smacked him in the back of the head. “I’m blaming at least part of this on you,” she snapped. “If you two hadn’t made it a damn contest to see just how many people you could plow, we wouldn’t be here!”

“Ciri,” Geralt said sternly. “This isn’t his fault.”

“Yes, and we still don’t know what ‘this’ is.” Vesemir frowned at him. “Spit it out, boy. You may be aging in reverse, but the rest of us are only getting older.”

Geralt grimaced. That was true enough. He took a heavy swallow of his wine and screwed up his resolve. “The appearance stuff,” he waved at his face, “wasn’t...completely intentional. I was still wounded, as I said, and they offered to help heal me. It worked. A little too well.”

“They’re healers?” Triss looked intrigued. Probably because she remembered how fond Geralt was of Shanie, another healer that they both knew. Powers like that were rare and extremely valuable. Geralt could practically see the wheels turning in her head.

“They’re vampires,” he said flatly, staring her down. “Very powerful ones, both in skills and abilities.”

The reaction in the room was immediate. Vesemir and Lambert both drew back and sneered while Eskel just nodded, though there was still a confused line on his brow. Triss looked a little appalled but mostly curious. Yennefer looked furious. Her jaw clenched up and her eyes practically stormed. 

“Gods, you should have seen their castle,” Ciri said with a roll of her eyes. “The most dramatic, elaborate monstrosity I have ever laid eyes on. Pretty, sure, but there were so, so many naked people carved into the walls. Gods, I should have known Geralt would find friends there just looking at the place.” 

Trust Ciri to lighten the mood a bit, even if it was to tease him. He grinned at her because she wasn’t really wrong, either. Not that Geralt needed luxury; he was quite content to wander the wilds most of the time. But when he was at the castle, he had to admit that he enjoyed the casual beauty that lined every stone and board. 

Ever back to the point, Eskel said, “So they healed you. _Somehow_.” He raised an eyebrow and side-eyed Geralt hard. “And then you three just decided to live happily ever after? Clearly, you’re here and they aren’t. Also, if that was all there was to this story, you would have never called us all up.”

“No. No that certainly isn’t all there is.” Yennefer practically spat out the words. Her jaw was clenched so tight that it hurt to look at and her face was flushed red. “You witchers can’t see it, but we can.” She waved at Ciri, Triss, and herself. “Your soul. Some of it is missing, and something else replaced it. Something awful and dark and _fucking demonic._ What in the hell did you do, Geralt?!” She slammed her hands on the table.

Of everyone there, Geralt had expected an argument from her. That was one of the things that went wrong for them, when they were courting. Her short temper had always worn his own patience down to a thread. It wasn’t a good combination. 

Whatever joy and mirth Geralt had held up so far in the conversation had fled and he stared back at her flatly. “I found something that made me happy.”

“At what cost?” Vesemir asked quietly. 

“Less than you might expect.” A smile tugged at Geralt’s lips but the situation was too serious, the subject too grave, for it too really come out. 

“For what it’s worth,” Ciri said calmly, taking another drink. “I really think that he got a fair deal, as these things go. There’ll be complications, sure, but over all?” She kind of shrugged and raised her eyebrows. “Ehh?”

“Deal?” Triss and Yennefer said at the same time, their eyes wide as saucers.

“Tell me you didn’t, Geralt,” Triss said softly, horror in her voice.

“Oh he did,” Yennefer added on. She stared at him like she wanted to strangle him. Quite frankly, Geralt was vaguely impressed that she hadn’t thrown anything at him yet. “This fucking moron sold his soul to some two bit fucking dark-dweller. And for what? A good lay? That’s just---” her face twisted up for a moment like she was holding back a scream, “--- _fucking_ great.”

“Not some two bit dark-dweller,” Geralt said. Now he really couldn’t keep the grin off his face, though it was a touch predatory. Even though he knew that Yennefer had a right to be upset and that the upset came from a place of worry, her words still rankled. Not only was she insulting him, she was insulting his lovers, too. It made him want to bare his teeth and growl. “The King of Hell. Prince of Darkness. Lord of Chaos.”

The silence was deafening. 

“Holy shit, Geralt, did you seduce the Devil?” The words came out in a hushed whisper and Dandelion’s voice was torn between horror and awe. 

“And his son,” Ciri added helpfully, then stood up to get a refill on her wine. 

The unhappiness, anger, and confusion in the room were palpable things, as present as the scent of wine and meat in the air or the warmth from the fire. 

Despite that, Geralt couldn’t help but grin, slow and wicked, as thoughts of his lovers raced through his head. 

He thought about how brutal and careful Dracula could be, taking him and Alucard apart, piece by piece. Then how gentle he was holding them afterwards. The confused wonder that seemed to show up in his face whenever something went unexpectedly pleasant. Geralt thought of Alucard’s stalwart goodness and his iron will. The way that he so sweetly allowed himself to be vulnerable to them, trusting Geralt and Dracula to see him through. 

“Yes. And his son,” Geralt said finally, refocusing back on the group. Triss and Vesemir seemed to still be in shock. Lambert looked disgusted and Eskel intrigued. 

Yennefer pushed away from the table to go stare out the window. 

“I mean, that’s just impressive,” Dandelion said matter of factly. “You’ve been with non-humans before, but this really takes the cake. The sex must be incredible.”

“It really, really is.” Geralt and Dandelion shared a look that had nothing to do with serious matters and everything to do with a thousand nights of boasting over their own exploits. 

“And what happens when you decide to go whoring around again?” Yennefer turned to lean her back on the window and crossed her arms. She was still pissed, but she was starting to think things through, which was a great deal sooner than he expected, all in all. “You think the fucking Prince of Darkness will be alright with that?” 

“Unlikely. He’s fairly, ah, possessive.” Geralt huffed out a rueful laugh. “But, honestly, it hasn’t been an issue yet.”

That earned him another round of shocked staring. 

“I’m not really sure which is more unbelievable. The fact that you managed to seduce a god, or the fact that the sex was so good that it put you off sleeping around.” Eskel just shook his head, eyes wide. “I still don’t see where the wolf comes from, though.”

“Wolf?” Vesemir asked.

A faint heat hit Geralt’s cheeks. “Ah. That was Alucard. He, uh, helped Eskel and I out on a hunt a couple weeks ago. One of his shapeshifted forms is a large wolf.”

“So you are fucking the wolf.” Eskel raised an eyebrow.

“No! I am not fucking the wolf! He is very human when we fuck, thank you!” Geralt frowned at him and the blush burned a little hotter on his cheeks. 

Ciri snorted and took a drink.

“Can we get back to the fact that you’re fucking a father - son duo?” Lambert asked, waving a finger at Geralt. “Because, really?”

“As if you wouldn’t fuck twins if they were interested,” Dandelion said with a smirk. “As if I hadn’t already fucked twins. And mother - daughter duos. And the occasional set of cousins.”

“Like, at the same time? Are they touching each other, too?” Lambert looked back and forth between Dandelion and Geralt, eyes wide and somewhat concerned. 

Geralt and Dandelion just smirked at each other. 

“Oh yeah. They touch in all kinds of ways,” Dandelion said with a leer. Ciri and Triss both rolled their eyes.

“Besides, it’s...different for them.” Geralt waved a hand, trying to pick out the right words. “They’ve both been around for thousands of years, and they didn’t grow up knowing each other. It’s...complicated. There’s history there, and I think---” he paused for a moment and struggled to find the right words, “---judging them by human standards would be a mistake.” He shrugged. 

Yennefer pinched the bridge of her nose, walked back over to the table, and sat down with a heavy thump. “You,” she pointed at Geralt, “are a damn fucking moron. I hope like hell that you got what you wanted, because you are _fucked_.”

“In more ways than one,” Ciri muttered quietly, but went mostly ignored by everyone present. 

“Yennefer is right,” Triss said somberly. “Geralt, I know that you’ve...you’ve got a big heart.” Dandelion snickered. “But whatever this is, it’s irreversible. Deals like this never go away. Your lover there, he has a bit of your soul now. I can actually _see_ it’s absence.”

“And I have a bit of his in return,” Geralt said seriously. “You can see that, too, can’t you?”

Reluctantly, Triss nodded. 

“There’s a reason that witchers remain neutral,” Vesemir said. “Mark my words, Wolf, this is going to cause you issues.” He waggled his finger at Geralt.

“Cause us all issues, you mean,” Lambert said sourly, and then drained his mug. 

“Maybe,” Geralt said. “But it’s not like I didn’t have _issues_ already.”

There were several snorts around the table, because that was nothing but the bare truth. 

“Look at it this way. Next time you get chased out of a town for being a witch, you actually will be guilty of fornicating with the Devil. So there’s that?” Dandelion shrugged and grinned. 

“Whatever happens, whatever comes of this, I just need to make sure you all don’t try to do anything against Dracula or Alucard.” Geralt looked at each of them in an attempt to impress how serious he was upon them. “Dracula cannot die and this, whatever we’ve got, it cannot be undone. Not by me, him, or anyone. Trying would just end in bloodshed. Besides…” He looked at the table and shrugged a little, passing his mug back and forth between his hands. “You all are my friends. I kind of hoped you might get along with them.”

He didn’t look up to see their expressions. Whatever they were feeling, they had a right to it. He just wanted them to be safe, too.

“Well. Your, what was his name? Alucard? He did save me from falling into a frozen river,” Eskel said thoughtfully. “So whatever else he is, he was watching our backs.”

“Dracula is incredibly polite,” Ciri added. “I mean, he is absolutely an instigator, but he’s got manners. Alucard was equally pleasant to spend time with, though I definitely got the impression that he’s the sane one of the two.”

Geralt looked up hopefully, and tried to gauge the room. 

Vesemir looked like he badly wanted to drink. One hand was pinching the bridge of his nose and the other tapped at the table. Lambert looked both horrified and impressed, though mostly horrified. Dandelion also looked horrified and impressed, but he was mostly impressed. Triss’ lips were pursed into a thin line and she held her mug in a white knuckle grip. Yennefer just held her face in her hands. 

“So when do we get to meet them?” Yennefer said eventually. Resignation filled every word. 

Relief washed through him. “Alucard is outside the walls.” That earned Geralt several startled looks, so he was quick to add, “He was worried about me. Both he and his father, err, haven’t had good luck with humans. They kind of expect betrayal on all sides. He wanted to make sure I had an escape if I needed one.”

“Hrmph. Well. Point in his favor for being concerned,” Vesemir grumbled. Then he sighed. “Vampires in Kaer Morhen. The hell is this world coming too? Go bring him in. Let’s get this shit over with.”

Geralt grinned and promptly headed off to the battlements. As he walked off, he could hear a fair amount of quiet swearing behind him. Since it didn’t sound like anything other than their regular bitching, he ignored it and focused on being able to see Alucard again.

While they were talking, the sun had sunk low in the sky. Shadows stretched along the patchwork snow and spread out over the dark stone bricks. Kaer Morhen was nestled on the side of a mountain and Geralt knew that once the sun set, it would get dark quick. He hoped that whatever little sunlight was left wouldn’t be a bother to Alucard.

It only took a few moments for him to scale the stairs to the top of the front battlement. As soon as he looked over the edge he saw Alucard, still in his wolf form, step out from the tree line. His light fur all but glowing against the dark woods.

Geralt grinned and waved him in and then raced down to meet him at the front gate. The moment they were close, he wrapped Alucard’s furry head into a tight hug and breathed in the scent of woods and fur and power. 

“They took it alright, but they’re still, well, adjusting,” Geralt said, voice just barely a whisper in Alucard’s pointed ear. He got a huff in response and Alucard nuzzled into his jaw. Geralt had to brace himself or he would have been shifted by the sheer power in that body. Damn, but Alucard’s wolf was huge. 

He led the way towards the entrance to the great hall, listening to the click of Alucard’s claws on the stone walkway. The doors there would easily be large enough to accept Alucard’s massive body, and the hall was close to the kitchen, too. 

Eskel, Vesemir, and Lambert were all waiting at the far end of the hall. Geralt counted it as a win that none of them had weapons drawn. They didn’t look particularly happy, especially not Vesemir, but well, that was to be expected. 

Eskel looked at the wolf and didn’t react more than just raising an eyebrow slightly. After all, he and this particular form of Alucard were already well acquainted. Geralt remembered the oddly sweet image of going back to this world and finding Eskel all curled up with Alucard’s wolf.

The group of them trekked together back to where the others still sat. Alucard sat down a few paces into the kitchen, curling his tail over his paws primly and pricked his ears forward - the very picture of attentiveness. Geralt looked to the window and the last rays of sunlight almost disappearing behind the mountains visible in the distance. A few more minutes and Alucard will be able to change back into his human form.

It was Ciri who stood up and waved to Alucard first. “Want some stew?” She pointed to one of the cauldrons on the fire. While Geralt had stepped outside, the rest of them had gotten on with passing around food. He also noticed that the seat next to where he had been was left conspicuously empty. 

Alucard sniffed the air, delicately as far as Geralt could tell, but even that movement made his extremely long fangs show up more, sliding from between the black lips as he considered the food idea. It was always hit or miss with him.

“Gods,” Dandelion said quietly. His skin was as pale as the snow outside and his eyes as wide as coins. “I think you’re taking your moniker too far, Geralt.” 

Ciri snorted.

Eventually Alucard licked his chops, flashing the gathered people the array of knife like fangs, and nodded.

Even sitting down, Alucard’s head still came within easy reach of Geralt’s elbow. He couldn’t help but run his fingers through the coarse fur right around his ears, smiling just a touch. “I’ll get you a plate.”

Alucard nodded again, but didn't move. He just turned his head to watch the window and the setting sun.

While Geralt busied himself getting a plate for Alucard set up, the rest of the group settled in uneasily around the table. Someone, probably Lambert, had found his bag of booze and the little bottles were being passed around along with hearty bowls of stew.

“You call that a wolf?” Vesemir grumbled, clearly side eyeing Alucard.

Alucard’s left ear turned sideways and dropped sadly. Geralt frowned, grabbed it, and pulled it up again, not liking the shy look on Alucard in front of his friends. He couldn’t resist letting his hand linger in the fur for a moment.

“…He’s wolf shaped.” Geralt answered abashedly. So what if Alucard was a tad big? No need to shame him for it so publicly. He did his best.

Despite the fact that Alucard was in the wrong shape for it, Geralt set his plate next to him at the table. He’d likely turn just as soon as the sun set anyways and Geralt wanted him to feel included. He made sure not to look at Yennefer’s or Triss’s expression. It was hard to see a human in the wolf if one didn’t meet Alucard’s other form first.

He couldn’t tell what it was exactly that he felt just before Alucard shifted into motion. When Alucard was in his wolf form, Geralt’s witcher amulet didn’t react. But it always vibrated at the moment of change. This time he saw all the Witchers present jerk in startlement just a heartbeat before Alucard moved and their amulets vibrated in warning. 

His form blurred into a glowing, spectral image caught mid leap and he coalesced into the now familiar human form. The blue coat, so clearly expensive and armored, fluttered around him and his long sword was in its rune inscribed scabbard at his waist. Thick belts low on his hips criss crossed over each other, holding the blade in place and his arms and hands were covered in the usual dark silver gauntlets. There was also a new addition of a white shirt covering his normally bare chest. Just the sight of him sent a rush of warmth to Geralt’s belly. 

He stared at the long, forever messy, white hair falling gently over Alucard’s smooth face and couldn’t help a sigh of appreciation. His lover was _so pretty_. Geralt held out a hand to him and he was sure that a tiny, sappy smile was on his face. 

“Oh Gods,” Triss said quietly.

“I know,” Ciri responded in kind.

After only a moment’s hesitation, and a quick glance around the table, Alucard moved smoothing over to Geralt, putting a clawed, gloved hand in his. 

“Allow me to introduce you all. This is Alucard. Alucard, this is Vesemir, Eskel, Yennefer, Triss, Dandelion, and Lambert. And of course, you’ve met Ciri.” Geralt couldn’t keep the pleasure out of his voice. As fraught at this little meeting was, it felt really good to introduce his friends to his lover. 

“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Alucard said gently with a shallow bow towards Ciri, making the long strands of his hair fall forward over his shoulders and in front of his eyes.

“Likewise,” she said with a nod of her own. Then she slid a bottle of booze across the table towards him, judging the effort so perfectly that it slid to a stop right near the plate of food. “First aid, because if you thought our Meet the Family dinner was bad, then this might actually give you a migraine.”

“I don’t believe Geralt’s family could be anything but wonderful,” Alucard replied with a tone of mirth in his voice, and Geralt wondered what was he missing out of this exchange.

Dandelion turned to Ciri and said, “Alright, now I really want to know about the dinner you all had.”

“Vetoed,” Geralt said firmly and gently urged Alucard into taking the seat next to him. 

There was still a fair amount of staring but at least no one had brought out the knives, well, excluding the wickedly sharp fingertips of Alucard’s gauntlets. Yennefer in particular looked like she was kind of hoping for the opportunity though. Vesemir just looked pained. 

“...So.” Lambert drawled, poking his spoon into his stew. Geralt vaguely dreaded whatever was about to come next. “You look young.”

“Thousands of years old,” Geralt muttered and took a bite. 

“Thank you.” Alucard inclined his head towards Lambert. 

The silence stretched on for a moment, only interrupted by Yennefer tapping her fingers to the table top. 

“Whatever’s in Geralt is in you, too.” Yennefer narrowed her eyes at him.

“My Father tends to the possessive side,” Alucard answered easily. The emphasis on the word ‘father’ was something Geralt was already used to, but he could see how people took note of it. Eskel and Lambert just blinked hard. Dandelion just leered at them both, though. 

“And how does he treat his possessions?” Triss asked sweetly. She was an old hand at masking her thoughts and feelings, as Geralt knew very well. It was part of why she was so good at politics. 

Alucard turned his golden eyes on her. He was hard to read now; his face pleasant and friendly, and the deep calm he carried around him was like a shroud hiding his true thoughts. For all his openness and genuine good nature, he was much better at hiding what he felt than Dracula. His father usually looked blank when trying not to show what he felt, Alucard looked pleasant and neutral.

A delightful series of thoughts ripped through Geralt’s mind as he considered Triss’s question. Dracula’s cock inside of him, coming over and over. Alucard wrapped around his front and Dracula at his back, teeth and lips all around him. Warm bodies and filthy words spoken in his ear.

A piece of bread hit him in the face and Ciri glared at him. “Whatever you are thinking right now, keep it to yourself. I don’t need to hear it.”

“And I don’t need to smell it. Damn it man, keep it in your pants,” Lambert grumbled, face twisting in disgust. The other witchers wrinkled their noses at him, too, no doubt able to smell the arousal on him. The downside of extremely enhanced senses. It wasn’t usually so noticeable, but they were in a relatively small enclosed space and they all knew each other well enough that their scents were familiar.

Heat flooded Geralt’s face but he wasn’t really that sorry. Thinking about his _treatment_ at his lover’s hands was a favored pastime of his. “Suffice to say, I am not unsatisfied,” he finally said to Triss. Better he field that question than Alucard anyways. The younger vampire had a way of being uniquely honest at times, too much for the first meeting Geralt thought.

She hummed at him but let it drop. 

The sound of quiet eating filled the room and even Alucard took a bite or two. 

“That’s an unusual weapon you have there,” Vesemir finally said, breaking the awkward silence. “I’ve never seen its like, and I’ve been fencing instructor here for many years.”

“It’s a magic blade, Crissaegrim, forged many centuries ago.” Alucard was the perfect image of politeness. “By me,” he added with a touch of pride. 

“Maybe we should---” Lambert started, looking intrigued.

“No. We are not leaving dinner to compare swords.” Ciri glared at them all.

“We’d never get them back,” Triss added, and Yennefer nodded in agreement, rolling her eyes.

Since that was exactly what happened at Geralt’s first dinner with Dracula, he held his peace. 

“What do you _do_ , anyways?” Yennefer asked, still glaring a little. She’d barely touched her food and she kept tapping a finger along the side of her mug. “Surely you don’t hang around your castle all night waiting for Geralt to show up.”

Alucard’s eyebrows went up a little at that.

“I do wait for Geralt to show up.” He blinked innocently at the people gathered there as if it was the most obvious answer that could be given to Yennefer’s question. “It is _Geralt_ after all, who wouldn’t wait for him?”

“Geralt,” Dandelion said seriously, “I know there’s a fair amount here I’m not catching, what with the magic and all? But I feel like I should probably shake your hand after this. Maybe dig you up an award. I mean,” he eyed Alucard up and down, “kinda not my cup of wine, if you know what I mean? But damn.”

Geralt and Ciri both snorted in amusement.

Triss had an expression on her face that suggested she kind of wanted to agree with Alucard. Or Dandelion. Geralt felt his cheeks heat up.

“Thank you Master Dandelion,” Alucard said in that velvet smooth voice of his. “Geralt told me about your exploits together.”

“Oh no,” Dandelion said with mock horror. “Did he sing you the ballads? I wrote ballads. They’re quite popular.”

“If we can’t compare swords, we are not listening to poetry,” Eskel said tartly. “Especially poetry espousing your virility. I’ve heard those stories, and I don’t need to hear them again.”

Ciri finished off the bottle of liquor she was working on and dug through Geralt’s bag to fish out another. “I swear to the Gods, I know more about the dicks in this room than I ever wanted to,” she said in a low grumble. “I grew up with you all. It’s bizarre.” 

“Answering your question,” Alucard turned to Yennefer. “I’m the owner and CEO of a medical corporation that controls over seventy percent of the medical market world wide, in the world I came from that is.”

This was news to Geralt, though he kept that reaction off of his face. He definitely was going to ask Alucard later what any of that even meant, though. It sounded impressive at least and he was extremely proud of his lover for doing...whatever it was that he did. 

“Medical…” Triss furrowed her brow. “So you are a healer?”

Alucard blinked at her, obviously catching on to the fact nobody understood what it meant.

“No. Not the way you expect. It’s a trade corporation that exists in every country, every town. It creates and sells medicine. All the medicine that people of my world use.”

“Merchant then. Huh. I always wondered if you’d pick up a sugar daddy, Geralt. Guess so,” Lambert said dryly and then took another drink. 

Geralt nearly choked on his stew.

“That would be my Father,” Alucard said easily, shrugging his shoulders. “I merely have one world I am capable of influencing in any significant matter. His reach is not so limited.”

Ah yes, this was why Geralt brought the liquor. He knew, he just _knew_ , that as soon as they got over their shock, the whole evening would be a never ending string of teasing. He waved a hand at Ciri and she passed him a bottle without a word. 

“This is still a thing I do not want to think about,” Ciri said, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Pffft, you knew who you invited.” Dandelion snorted in amusement, and elbowed her.

“So how about that amazing wolf form?!” Ciri said, very firmly changing the subject. Both Eskel and Lambert opened their mouths. She silenced them with a look. “Do. Not.” Both of them snapped their jaws shut, Lambert in annoyance and Eskel with amusement.

“Is my form such a surprise?” Alucard asked innocently. “After the night Master Eskel and I spent together?”

Geralt choked on the swallow of wine he was taking.

“Oh reaaaaally?” Dandelion waggled his eyebrows at Eskel, who mostly looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. “Do tell.”

“No. No, we didn’t. There wasn’t---” Eskel paused and licked his lips. “It was very cold.”

“Uh huh.” Dandelion leered at him. 

“Master Eskel has indeed been very careful,” Alucard confirmed with a nod of his head. Geralt choked on his own tongue this time, coughing and spluttering beside Alucard. Ciri was frozen with her hand extended to pat Eskel on the back, lips slightly open as she stared at him.

“Eskel...” Triss was looking at the other witcher with wide eyes, not exactly shocked, but more like… interested?

“I only blame myself.” Vesemir shook his head sadly, his words as dry as could be. “What has this generation of witchers come to? Clearly, we teachers made some grave error in our practices. Next I’ll hear Lambert has joined in.” Lambert made a rude gesture at him from across the table. “No? Not yet? Well. Perhaps there is hope left.”

“I did not sleep with him,” Eskel said loudly, pointing at Alucard.

Alucard made wounded face. Geralt only managed to wheeze more.

“Of course not,” Alucard said with apologetic air. “There was very little sleep involved. I would never suggest otherwise and cast aspersions on your character!”

“I was wrong. You’re just as much of a troublemaker as your father.” Ciri gave Alucard the stink eye from across the table.

“But,” Alucard turned his sweetly innocent and uncomprehending face to Ciri. “It was such an unexpected night, in the mountains, under the brightly shining stars.”

Eskel practically sputtered at that and Geralt struggled not to crack up laughing. The best he could do was just cover his face and muffle the sounds. 

“Gods, I love you,” Geralt said finally. He waved a finger at Eskel. “Keep your paws to yourself, though.” It was said half in jest, half serious.

“I was half conscious from cold and trying to heal a badly fucked up shoulder,” Eskel growled in that damaged voice of his. 

“Huddling for warmth is a time honored tactic. I approve.” Dandelion toasted him, smirking.

“There was nothing untoward happening!” Eskel was flushed now, redness creeping up the unscarred side of his face.

“So this is what it takes to capture your heart,” Yennefer said. Much of the anger had gone out of her words, only to be replaced by resignation.

“You wound me.” Alucard lowered his lids, letting his long eyelashes fan out on his cheeks. “After I let you in so close.”

Eskel flailed for a moment, glancing back and forth between Geralt and Alucard. Then he slammed his cup on the table and got to his feet.

“Fine,” he all but snarled, stepping over the bench he was sitting on. “You are intent on playing it this way?” Eskel was around the corner and advancing on Alucard. “Let’s have it your way, then.”

“Oh my. Such vigor!” Alucard gave a fake little gasp.

Laughter broke out across the table. Geralt was dying, his lungs and his face hurt from from it. 

“I will show you vigor,” Eskel growled. He reached for Alucard’s shoulder, turning him half away from the table and then unexpectedly diving down, fitting his mouth against Alucard’s with no warning at all. 

Geralt heard the shocked little exhale from Alucard before Eskel’s lips stole that sound too. He was off his seat, one hand curled into the strap of Eskel’s harness and pushing him away even as he used the other to push Alucard away, separating them. His heart was pounding and he stared, shocked at an equally shocked Eskel, jealousy churning heavily in his gut. After another heartbeat he realized he was growling, low in his throat and stopped that too.

The room was quiet again as the rest of the group stared at them. 

“Now that’s a thing I never thought I’d see,” Triss said calmly. Yennefer nodded, her eyebrows arched all the way up to her hairline.

Geralt shook his head, suddenly feeling like he should apologize, but at the same time feeling like he absolutely should not. 

It was Eskel who raised his hands in surrender and said easily, “My mistake.”

“I went a bit too far with teasing your friend,” Alucard murmured, catching the hand Geralt was using to keep him at a distance and tugging down. “You can’t be mad at him for reacting.”

“I’m not mad,” Geralt said slowly, still more than a little shocked at his own reaction. He uncurled his fingers from the armor strap and patted Eskel’s chest apologetically. “I’m not,” he repeated, feeling a flush raise up on his cheeks for making a spectacle.

“No, you weren’t mad. Startled, maybe.” Alucard smoothed a hand down Geralt’s shoulder and arm, petting away the line of tension. 

The blush on Geralt’s face turned to a solid, brilliant burn as he realized everyone was still staring at him. More than that, he was struck by how serious Alucard had become. 

They’d been laughing, teasing, having a fine time before Geralt jumped in. And as much as it bothered him to see anyone else’s hands on Alucard, he had to wonder when Alucard had last had the chance to be playful with other people. Without Geralt even noticing, Alucard had seamlessly fit into the group’s light banter. He had to admit to himself that if Eskel had made a grab for anyone else, Ciri included, they all would have just laughed it off. Ciri might have dumped her drink on him but no one would have been upset. 

Geralt shook his head again, feeling inexplicably disappointed that he cut off the fun so soon. “I’m learning bad habits.”

“Too much time alone with my Father.” Alucard suddenly smirked at him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed his sudden love for visiting this world.”

Geralt thought of the claws first. Of the way Dracula would melt out of the shadows in some inn or other and drag those deadly things down Geralt’s spine before rumbling some truly astounding filth into his ear.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Lambert groaned, all but stuffing his nose into his drink. Vesemir looked as if he smelled something rotten. Eskel managed to keep his face blank. 

Ciri snickered.

“Is sex the only thing you can think of?” Lambert asked from the depths of his mug, sounding pained.

“Yes,” Yennefer, Triss, and Ciri chorused.

“I think of other things too.” Geralt pouted a little. 

“You do?” Alucard asked, surprised, and a few more snickers were heard around the table.

“I work sometimes, too, you know,” Geralt said dryly. 

“Oh,” Alucard said slowly. “I thought that was just an euphemism for foreplay with you.”

The snickers turned to howling laughter as Geralt just shrugged and nodded. That wasn’t an entirely inaccurate statement. He sat down again and took a drink, relegating himself to being laughed at for the rest of the night.

“Where did I go wrong?” Vesemir threw up his hands in the air.

“You mean, this wasn’t always the plan?” Dandelion asked. He pointed at Lambert and then at Eskel. “From what I heard about those two, they aren’t much behind Geralt in their exploits.”

That made both Lambert and Eskel smirk absently. After waving a hand at Lambert, Eskel grabbed both their empty mugs and refilled them from the cauldron of wine. He dropped them off and grabbed for his empty bowl.

“It’s a problem with witchers in general,” Yennefer added sagely, handing off her mug for Eskel to fill as well.

“Gotta get our pleasure where we can.” Lambert shrugged, taking another swing of his drink.

The beginning of the sensation was so gentle, Geralt didn’t even sense it. It was Ciri who looked up first and the other sorceresses after her. Geralt felt the tingle of Dracula’s power then, quiet and strangely subdued, coming on like a shiver rather than an unending wave. He turned to look at the ceiling and saw tiny wisps of black mist seeping through the cracks in the stone, through the tiny fissures age made in the old walls. 

Slowly, silently, pulling every eye to it, the wisps thickened and built, covering the whole ceiling in thick, opaque, black mist that boiled against the stone for a few heartbeats. Then it started falling down. Tendrils of it reached towards the floor like hungry tongues, curling in on themselves, and forming a pillar of living darkness. It dispersed as soundless and as sudden as it came, leaving Dracula standing in the middle of their kitchen.

His dark hair fell over the armored shoulders of his gilded coat and his eyes were a banked red as he regarded the gathering. Unlike Alucard, he didn’t bother with adjusting his clothes. His chest was bare and the skull on his armored belt looked more sinister with the shadows cast by the suddenly flickering fireplace. Geralt dragged his eyes down to the bare, strangely vulnerable, hands. As usual, they were void of any armor. His nails were elongated into wicked claws, though. They caught the flickering light of the flames and reflected it off their smooth surface.

“Hmm,” Dracula said in that rough voice of his. “You did not mention darkness was so thick in this place.”

The sound of Dracula’s voice couldn’t help but drag a grin out of Geralt. He shrugged, endlessly pleased to see both his lovers together, regardless of whatever they wanted to talk about. “Darkness is everywhere in the world.”

“Holy Gods, Geralt, how are you even still alive?” Triss muttered quietly. 

“I prefer him alive,” Dracula said offhandedly, looking around the room with a faint frown. “You call this place a castle?”

It was Ciri who got her bearings first. She stood up and gave a short bow, “A pleasure to see you again, Dracula. And, well. Kaer Morhen has seen better days.”

“There’s the Gods’ truth,” Vesemir said quietly. “Most of the school is dead and gone. When we here die, it’ll die too.”

Dracula quietly hummed again. “At least it’s dark enough for me to bring my own servants.” He turned to Geralt. “You haven't told them yet?”

Geralt blinked, absolutely confused. “Told them?” He glanced to the side quickly, trying to think of whatever it was he was supposed to say. He’d thought he had covered all the important topics.

“This one,” Dracula waved a negligent hand at Vesemir, “seems to be concerned with you dying.”

“Oh.” Right. That. He glanced over to his friends, who were now staring at him with varying levels of disbelief and irritation. “Small side effect of all the, err, changes.” Geralt waved a hand at himself. “I’ll probably live a fairly long time. Should nothing else happen.”

Yennefer snorted and rolled her eyes at him. “Geralt, with the deal you made, it wouldn’t even matter if you lived for a long time. Death doesn’t stop the likes of him.” She indicated Dracula with a glace.

Dracula seemed surprised at Yennefer’s insight, his eyebrows going up a little.

“It does not,” he agreed, “yet I prefer Geralt human. Forced immortality isn’t a gentle gift.”

“Well,” Lambert said with a shrug. “No witcher dies in bed.” Dandelion snorted, then started giggling hysterically, and Lambert leveled a glare at him. “What I _mean_ , you reprobate, is that none of us expect to live to old age.”

“How long is long?” Vesemir asked, watching Geralt thoughtfully. His eyes hovered over Geralt’s faded scar.

“Far longer than I ever dreamed,” Geralt said quietly. 

“Which is?” Vesemir pressed, not taking his eyes off of Geralt. His old teacher hated any sort of vague statements.

“At least five thousand years,” Alucard answered instead of Geralt. “That’s assuming there are no other factors introduced to his body in the meantime.”

Geralt thought fondly of the ‘factors’ that Dracula had introduced. That trail of thought was quickly derailed as Lambert caught his eye and glared.

“How…” Vesemir frowned.

“At least one of the mutagens you introduced to his body had to have been demonic in origin,” Alucard explained. “It opened up a…wealth…of possibilities in conjunction with my Father’s power.”

That information settled uneasily on the group as the witchers realized just exactly what was implied. They were all part demon.

“Geralt,” Ciri said, interrupting the quiet. “You haven’t introduced anyone.”

“No need,” Dracula said, waving her concerns away. “My name is Dracula. I know who you are.”

Dandelion made a little _eep_ sound and sunk a little father into his chair. 

“Just tell me it wasn’t the rats,” Alucard complained, reaching for his cup of drink.

_Ah. The rats are apparently still a thing_ , Geralt thought to himself as he watched the sour expression on Alucard’s face.

“Can you turn into rats, too?” Ciri asked Alucard as she settled into her seat. She waved a fresh bottle of liquor towards Dracula and raised an eyebrow, asking without words if he wanted some. It was obvious to Geralt that she was doing her best to set everyone at ease, even to the extent of covering up her own worries. She was fearless and he couldn’t have been prouder. 

“I’m afraid that a gaggle of rats is not among my forms,” Alucard said, shaking his head. 

“A Plague of Rats,” Dracula said. 

Alucard made a huffing sound. “Nine rats is in no way a Plague of anything,” he scoffed.

“It is when _I’m_ the rats,” Dracula answered, pinning a sharp glare at his son.

Geralt snorted and got up to greet his lover properly, sliding easily into Dracula’s personal space. Slowly he dragged a finger across Dracula’s jaw and ended the gesture with a sweet kiss.

Dracula didn’t let it stay sweet for long. Geralt shivered pleasantly as he felt those claws slide through his hair until they settled against the nape of his neck, lovingly framing his spine as Dracula deepened the kiss.

“When did you get here?” Geralt asked, backing out of the kiss before he forgot that they had an audience.

“Yesterday,” Dracula admitted easily, not a shred of shame or guilt in his voice. “I wanted to observe your friends before you arrived.”

“I’m shocked. Shocked, I say,” Ciri said flatly.

“How can you…” Eskel muttered as he stared with horrified eyes at the curved claws.

“ _Spine_ , over your _spine_ …” Lambert was actually keeping his own gloved hand over the nape of his neck, as if hiding it from view.

Vesemir just twitched and then looked down at his chest to where the wolf amulet rested calmly. It didn’t vibrate. Geralt knew it wouldn’t, not for Dracula.

“Want a drink?” Geralt offered and then noticed the absolute silence that fell over the room. He looked back to see an array of shocked and dismayed faces staring at him with wide eyes. “...of _wine_ ,” he added pointedly.

“It’s very good,” Alucard said with a smirk, sipping his own mug. “A rare vintage. Spiced. Warm, too.”

“You are supposed to be the sane one,” Ciri hissed at him.

“My son,” Dracula said, low and sensual. “I see you are developing more of a fondness of witchers than I would have ever expected of you.”

Eskel went rigid in his seat, his eyes wide and lips pursed. 

Alucard hummed, never taking his eyes off his father.

“They are a rather unique bunch,” he said.

That brought a tiny bit of a frown to Geralt’s face. He wanted to be pleased that Alucard was fitting in, feeling happy, but the unfamiliar sensation of jealousy boiled in his gut. It was bizarre and rather unexpected. He’d never been jealous of lovers before. Then again, he’d never been exclusive with lovers before. Nor had he ever had the same depth of connection with them.

Dracula raised his eyebrows and looked from Alucard to Eskel. Then he turned to regard Lambert, who cringed away from those red eyes unsubtly, and then to Vesemir, who looked frankly poleaxed by the whole situation.

“Hm.” Dracula, terrifyingly, looked _thoughtful_.

Geralt twitched in place and tightened one hand into a fist. It was a massive effort to not attempt to drag both Dracula and Alucard right out of there. What exactly he would do he wasn’t quite sure. But it likely involved prodigious use of his many skills. And his mouth. 

He briefly cursed the fact that he couldn’t actually leave bruises on them. Nothing said, _mine_ , like teeth marks. 

Alucard glanced around the table and hummed in agreement. “I find myself unexpectedly entertained.”

Entertained. He was entertained. Geralt would show him _entertained_.

Geralt grabbed a fistfull of Dracula’s coat and moved towards Alucard, intent on dragging them both out of there. As new and strange as it was, he needed to reestablish his mark. What exactly he was going to do was still sort of nebulous in his mind, but it involved keeping them all pleasantly occupied for as long as it took to remind them…

He didn’t get more than a single step, though, before Ciri interrupted. “No! No, you are not leaving. The last time this happened I didn’t see you for half a day. You can go jealously blow them later, but now is dinner time!”

A wince crossed Geralt’s face as he realized that was exactly what he was about to do. He looked sheepishly over to Ciri’s glaring face. “We didn’t have sex when we left dinner that time.”

“No one believes you.” Ciri stared at him flatly and then pointed towards his seat. Then she pointed at Dracula. “Besides, that one looked way too pleased for me to ever believe you.”

“Half a day?” Yennefer asked with her eyebrows raised, something akin to blush on her face.

“It could have been so much longer,” Alucard said dryly. He glanced at Geralt’s spot on the bench and then raised an eyebrow at him. 

“You,” Geralt said, pointing to Alucard, “are a _menace_.” Grudgingly, he moved to sit down at the table, dragging Dracula with him. There was a little ember of heat that curled up smugly in his chest at the fact Dracula allowed himself to be dragged like that. If he couldn’t leave the damn room, at least he could sit surrounded by both of them.

Geralt sat down beside Alucard and scooted closer to him so that there was a space left for Dracula. Lambert was giving him a wide eyed, terrified stare as Geralt patted the empty space on the bench. Lambert shook his head no, ever so slightly, as Dracula approached and then stepped over the bench to sit down. Geralt couldn’t be sure, but he could swear he head a strangled squeak under the rustle of leather and armor as Lambert shifted over.

“Do you want some food?” Ciri asked, waving at the stew still simmering over the fire. “Or wine?”

Dracula looked over the food before shaking his head.

“I brought my own refreshments,” he said in that slightly hoarse voice that sent pleasant shivers down Geralt’s back. 

Nearly everyone at the table glanced at Geralt, their faces both knowing and slightly horrified. A little heat came back to his cheeks, but there was really no use denying the implied accusation, especially when it was true. Quite frankly, the whole feeding experience was so pleasurable that he didn’t even really feel guilty about it. All he could do was smirk.

Dracula raised his eyebrows and ran his eyes over the faces staring at Geralt in different degrees of shock.

“Unless you _want_ to do the honors?” Dracula asked, looking to Geralt with that inscrutable face he perfected.

A slow, wicked smile stretched across Geralt’s face but before he could answer, Ciri just looked at him. She hefted a piece of bread in her hand as if weighing it, testing for its use as a projectile. He snapped his mouth shut and blinked hard.

“Later, if you want,” he said finally. He resolutely ignored how Vesemir, Dandelion, and Lambert shivered in place and how carefully Eskel kept his expression blank. 

Alucard chimed in suddenly with, “I didn’t know you were into public performances.” He had the gall to sound shocked. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.”

Geralt and Dandelion both snorted. 

“It’s not my usual thing,” Geralt said with amusement. “But it’s happened once or twice.”

“Ahhhh Temaria.” Dandelion grinned. “That was a fun month.”

“As if anybody cares,” Ciri drawled wryly. “I already know too much about your sex life as it is, I’m not sure I could survive an actual show and tell session.” She paused. “At my dinner table, no less.”

“We’ve talked about worse,” Eskel said philosophically. 

“That’s true. You witchers tend to bring your work home with you.” Triss had a little smile on her face, both fond and exasperated. 

“Not today, then,” Dracula decreed with an imperious air. “Should you ever desire spectators, just let me know. I’m sure I can arrange something suitable to your needs,” Dracula promised matter of factly. 

Geralt blushed. It was one thing to tease his friends and completely another to suddenly remember the size of the throne room and what he and his lovers got up to in that amazing chair. The idea of being taken so publicly, being shown off like a trophy, coiled an unexpected ball of heat in his groin.

“Huh,” Triss mused out loud.

“I know. It’s eerie,” Ciri responded, answering some unspoken line of conversation. Yennefer seemed to be following along, too, because she just scowled into her cup.

Whatever they were talking about, Geralt didn’t bother to ask. He’d learned that sometimes it was best just not to know.

Dracula reached back without looking, his outstretched arm meeting a suddenly frothing mass of shadows raising up from the floor behind him. From it he pulled out a familiar, heavily encrusted, golden chalice. Geralt could smell the blood before Dracula even brought it back to the table, the scent thick and coppery in the air. 

He wasn’t the only one.

Vesemir, Lambert, and Eskel all reared back from the table with identical expressions of horror on their faces. Of the witchers, only Geralt was unphased. He’d seen this already.

“Where, dare I ask, did you find that?” Vesemir’s voice came out strangled, like he was trying very hard not to choke. “I’m not going to be getting requests for my services in these parts, am I? I am unreasonably fond of my neighbors. What few I have.”

“Whatever you did here,” Dracula said, taking a drink from his goblet without shame or reservations. “Made this place dark enough that it’s barely any effort to extend a connection from here to my castle. All this death, all the suffering that’s permeating those walls? It’s all but asking to be mine.” Another drink. “My servants brought my supplies back from my palace,” Dracula lifted his goblet in a half salute. “Among other things.”

The flush on Vesemir’s face had turned a brilliant red and his chest all but looked like it would explode with the pressure that was pent up there. His gloves creaked with how tightly he held his fists on the table. He closed his eyes for a moment and visibly got himself under control before answering. 

“As much as this visit has been a delight.” Vesemir ran his tongue over his teeth and swallowed. “I would much prefer Kaer Morhen left untampered with.”

Dracula nodded.

“Just as soon as Geralt’s room is finished being redone and the unused part of the basement under the left wing is equipped with a bath, including running hot water.”

“...Redone?” Geralt raised an eyebrow at Dracula. 

Alucard was rubbing his eyes on Geralt’s left, ashamed and exasperated in equal measure. There was a bit of rummaging under the table and then Ciri drew out another bottle of liquor and slid it across the table to him.

“How did you expect us all fit in that sorry excuse of a bed?” Dracula wrinkled his nose. “And it was so hard and lumpy, too.”

Which, of course, made Geralt consider that Dracula had been in his room. On his bed. Alone. Maybe thinking of him. 

“Baths,” Eskel said musingly. He glanced over to Vesemir, who was still quietly fuming. “That...would be a welcome addition.”

“Please tell me there won’t be demons wandering around. I’d never sleep here again.” Lambert visibly shivered. 

“There’s plenty of demons here already,” Darcula said looking to Lambert. “Mine are merely the corporeal ones of the bunch.”

“All those kids,” Yennefer said quietly as understanding dawned across her face. “The one’s that didn’t pass the trials.” 

A melancholy air filled the room. Geralt remembered well what the trials were like, how painful and harrowing they were. He loved being a witcher, loved hunting and protecting, but the methods that were used to create him were more than a little horrifying. From the looks on Lambert and Eskel’s faces, they were thinking of the same thing. Especially Lambert. He’d never wanted to have this life.

“Trials?” Alucard asked, looking around the people in the room. 

Geralt took a breath. “The trials are part of what makes witchers. So, you know I said we’re all orphans, right? Well. Children come here, or came here, either because there was no where else for them, or because they were given in payment for services rendered. Once here, they were trained to be...us. And as they aged, they, we, were all put through the trials. A series of magically induced transformations. The survival rate wasn’t high.” He stared off into nothing for a while, thinking of the pain and the bleeding and the hallucinations. “Nor was the process pleasant. There were several stages, different enhancements that got added with each one.”

“Are there more of you?” Alucard looked to Eskel. “Or are the Witchers in this room all that there is?”

“There are more,” Vesemir answered. “Maybe only a couple left of our school, the Wolf school. But there are other schools. Manticore. Bear. Griffin. Viper. Cat. We’re all enhanced...differently.”

At the mention of the Cat school, Eskel, Geralt, and Lambert all grimaced. In times past, all the witcher schools would gather together for a tournament. In one such event, the Cat school had schemed and attacked the Wolf school, slaughtering nearly every Wolf who attended. That was decades past, but the enmity between the schools remained.

“Why did you stop creating more Witchers here?” Dracula asked unexpectedly. Geralt wondered what he saw in this place, of the history of this fortress, considering just who he was. Could he still feel the terror and agony of the kids that didn’t make it?

“Years ago we were attacked.” Vesemir looked pensive. The earlier anger and frustration had all but fled in the wake of old memories. “Keep in mind, this place was a training area and witchers are a rare breed to begin with. We had a couple dozen teachers and maybe forty younglings. Spurred by fear and bigoted rhetoric, a mob of fanatics and mages gathered up and attacked the keep. They killed everyone here, down to the smallest child, stole what magics they could, and destroyed anything that could have recreated those magics. Only I lived through the battle, and I did so only because I was left to bleed out on the stone. The other Wolves that survived Kaer Morhen’s demise were those out on the Path. There is no more magic to change younglings.”

He paused and took a breath. His eyes were locked on his heavy dueling gloves, so worn from time and use that they were practically a second skin. “I taught skill with blades. It is a vocation for me, I think. Part of me will forever be disappointed that my students will be so few. But…” He looked to the other witchers in the room. “Part is not sad to see some of those practices gone forever.”

“The teachers that specialized in the trials were always looking for new ways to make us better,” Lambert spit out the words, his mouth twisting into a bitter grimace. “We all got the first few rounds. Some of us got more.” He glanced to Geralt.

“It’s not always wise to fight what you can not change,” Dracula said in an unexpectedly gentle tone of voice. “When an outside power takes us and changes us against our will, we are left with two choices. Hatred of what we have became, thrus creating a hell of our own making, or acceptance of what we have been made into. Personally? I like the idea of taking what was forced upon me and using it out of sheer _spite_.” He drained his mug and threw it away. Geralt didn't even flinch when the gold didn’t even hit the floor. “No use giving them pleasure of seeing you miserable. _Thrive_ instead. _Outgrow_ your creators. _Remake_ yourself into what you want.”

The look Lambert gave Dracula was a thoughtful one, the first of the night that was untainted with fear or disgust. 

“Is that what you did?” Triss asked, proving once again that the sorceress had bigger balls than most men Geralt had met in his life.

“I was meant to be a weapon, powerful and unstoppable, but just a tool for others to use.” Dracula’s eyes changed from the banked, dark red to something brighter as an inner light filled them up. “I made myself a god instead.”

“To be completely honest,” Alucard chimed in, “the god part was an accident.” He shrugged, raising his hands. “But he wasn’t far off even before that.”

“Thank you, son,” Dracula said wryly, “for being so attentive to detail.”

“It is no trouble, Father.” Alucard demurred with a shallow bow of his head towards Dracula. 

Geralt had to stuff a spoonful of stew into his mouth to stop himself from snickering. He saw that Ciri was doing the same thing across the table. 

He couldn't stop himself from casting looks at Lambert. His friend seemed thrown off, looking at Dracula from the corner of his eye, eyes thoughtful. He could only hope that something of what Dracula said would reach Lambert, would ease the ever burning ball of rage he seemed to carry in his chest. Geralt wished with all his heart that his friend found some peace eventually. 

Alucard’s thigh was pressed tightly against him on the left and Dracula’s on the right. They never sat this close during a meal, Dracula prefering to keep physical distance. Not only during meals, but also during sex. Geralt got cuddles, yes, more recently than at the beginning, but he was starting to realize Dracula tended to turn the roles around until the sex was about Geralt or Alucard, very rarely about himself. Geralt tried to remember when the last time was that Dracula just laid back and let him touch him, kiss and lick that powerful body. He hit a blank. 

The last time was that first time in the throne room, when Alucard and Geralt both gave him that amazingly filthy blowjob. Just before Dracula’s control snapped and he halfway killed Geralt with his power. He looked at his dark lover, the powerful spread of his shoulders and the thick, dark hair falling onto them. Geralt was suddenly filled with the desire to push Dracula back and just worship that unmarred body, lick every muscle, and bite every tendon. He slid his hand under the table instead and put it on Dracula’s thigh, squeezing the thick muscle. It netted him a short, surprised look, but Dracula did not move his leg away.

Eskel cast a shrewd look between Geralt, Dracula, and Alucard. Then he tapped a finger against the table, his lips pursed in thought. 

“If you’re,” Eskel paused a moment to pick his words carefully, “ _modifying_ parts of Geralt’s room, I don’t suppose you added some sound proofing to the walls?” That earned him a glare from Vesemir and a snort from several others. “I’m just saying! The stone walls are fairly good, but something tells me that a little extra help might be advisable.” He raised his eyebrow at them.

Dracula looked taken aback. Geralt snickered. No wonder he didn't think of soundproofing the bedroom. His whole castle was basically his sandbox.

Geralt looked to Alucard, who had that same wide eyed expression on his face.

“Alucard?”

His lover shook his head. “If it’s not battle magic or time controlling spells, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Eskel looked at them, his eyes slowly widening in horror as he realized what his inevitable fate might be. He turned to Triss and Yennefer. “Please, please tell me one of you can sound proof walls. I share a wall with them.”

“Yennefer,” Vesemir looked as if he was chewing down on a lemon. “Please.” He looked to Geralt and then slowly to Alucard and then to Dracula. “I share a wall with them, too.”

“You may also want to soundproof the baths,” Dandelion added, then seemed to shrink down when everyone turned to look at him. “I mean, it just seems like a wise precaution. Just in case. Because I know what I would do in a lovely, hot water filled bath house.”

“Would do? You mean ‘have done’.” Lambert rolled his eyes. 

“Well. Yes.” Dandelion shrugged, unrepentant. “As often as I can.”

“Now that you mention it,” Dracula perked up suddenly, “Geralt did his best to seduce Alucard in our baths when he and Ciri appeared in our Castle. He kept flaunting his wounded side and making Alucard help him.” Dracula rubbed his goatee. “If I hadn’t interfered he would have succeeded, too.”

“Nice.” Dandelion smirked at Geralt. 

As far as Geralt was concerned, that was a job well done. He drummed his fingers in satisfaction on the table while Alucard hid his face in one hand. “Yes. Would have been a fine time, too, until someone interrupted.”

“Why must you both be like this,” Alucard said quietly. With _feeling_.

“There are two of them,” Triss said quietly to herself.

“That is exactly what I said!” Ciri gestured across the table.

“And this is why I drink,” Alucard reached for his wine and gulped it down in a few swallows. When he put the cup down, Ciri was already refilling it with liquor.

“Can you even get drunk? Or is it just comforting?” Eskel asked curiously.

Alucard slumped.

“I can’t,” he, well, _whined_.

Geralt patted his shoulder in sympathy. “There, there. I know a way to make you feel better.” He grinned wickedly and winked. Alucard just looked at him, his expression flat.

“I could make you a sound barrier,” Triss offered unexpectedly. “As a sorceress, I use them often to keep from being spied on when at court,” she explained. “I would have to get inside the room, though.”

“You sure you can handle an invitation into my abode?” Dracula asked, watching her thoughtfully. “Your magic tends towards the light, doesn’t it?”

That made Triss narrow her eyes. “It does, though that’s not true for all sorceresses. How much of your...ambient energies should I expect to run into here?”

“Let’s put it this way,” Dracula said. “You might, maybe, find something that is not of my power in that room.”

“I hope you’re talking about my extra gear and alchemy supplies. I don’t need them often, but it would be nice if they were still _there_.” Geralt looked entreatingly at Dracula. “I have books, too.”

The sheer number of astonished looks he got at that statement made him scowl, though not from the other witchers he noted. “I travel a lot. It’s nice to have something to read on the road,” he grumbled. 

“I saw the books,” Alucard admitted. “There was one about the history of Pontar Valley open.”

“Out of curiosity, were you both creeping around in my room at the same time? Or separately?” Geralt crossed his arms and tried to sound stern but couldn’t stop the twitch of a smile that pulled at his mouth. 

“I didn’t creep,” Dracula defended, sounding faintly offended. “I moved in.”

A small laugh bubbled out of Geralt but he quickly stifled it and went back to trying to look stern. “Well. As long as you’re thinking of me when you’re in the bed, I suppose I don’t mind.” Then he turned to Alucard. “That leaves you,” he pointed at his lover. “Just when did you manage to sneak away? I could swear you were with me the last two days.”

Dracula laughed.

“You haven’t caught on yet?”

“Caught on to what?” Geralt turned to look at Dracula, then back at Alucard.

The younger vampire slumped in his chair, attempting to become invisible.

“You gave yourself away, time to fess up.” Dracula was still laughing at Alucard, leaning on his elbow to look at Geralt and Alucard together.

Alucard sighed.

“It would have been easier if you didn't make such a big deal out of it,” he grumbled and extended an open palm over the table.

There was a sound, a tiny chirp coming from behind the kitchen window, and then a smudge of light passed through the old glass, heading towards the table. As it neared, Geralt’s pupils narrowed to make out details from the brightly glowing ball of of light. 

It was a small bird made purely of translucent glowing mist. It flapped its tiny wings before diving down to land on Alucard’s open palm. Then it turned its head, looking at the people seated at the table and chirped from time to time.

“I can see through his eyes if I choose to.”

Geralt looked at the tiny bird, so light and transparent that he doubted he could be able to see it against a daytime sky, and _wondered_.

“Impressive,” Yennefer said. “A very well crafted spell.”

“Just how many of those do you have following us around?” Geralt looked at Alucard’s guilty expression. “Correction, following me around?”

Alucard mumbled something Geralt didn’t understand.

“I didn’t catch that,” Geralt drawled.

“Eight,” Alucard admitted with a sigh, making Dracula chuckle again.

“Can you see through their eyes while you aren’t in this world?” Yennefer asked. The anger that had filled her earlier was mostly gone, though Geralt could still see she was unsettled. Frustrated by something, but what, he wasn’t sure. 

“Not without a lot of effort. It’s easier when I’m in my Father’s Castle as it’s a special place. When I’m in my homeworld, I need to enter meditation.”

“Honestly, it’s probably for the best that you’ve got an extra eye on him,” Ciri added, looking at Alucard seriously. “Geralt lives a dangerous life, and while I wouldn’t go so far as to say that he has _enemies_ , there are definitely those who would be happier if he was dead.”

“And sooner or later, others are going to sense your association with a Greater Dark Power.” Triss looked pointedly at Geralt. “Most will probably just give you an even wider berth, but some…for some, you never can tell what they might do. It’s better to be over cautious.”

“Most of my enemies don’t live very long,” Geralt said darkly.

“And yet, you keep making more.” Eskel gave him a look, and then sipped his wine.

“All I’m saying is I’m glad you’re keeping tabs.” Ciri smiled at Alucard.

“Witchers get scars for a reason, girl,” Vesemir said matter-of-factly. “The Path is fraught with trouble, and none of us die of old age.”

Geralt’s scars were fading though, and some of them were already completely gone. He wondered what that meant for him and for the Path he walked.

“Geralt is no longer alone,” Dracula said. “We visit sparingly because he expressed his wish to follow the Path.” He turned his eyes at Yennefer unexpectedly. “I do understand the implication of his connection to me. For now, the status quo can be maintained for his sake.”

A tiny bit of tension went out of the room as Vesemir, Eskel, and Lambert all relaxed just a touch. Geralt knew it was because Dracula admitted to allowing Geralt to continue hunting. Their work was more than a job, it was a calling, and it was as much a part of them as the act of breathing. 

For the sorceresses, both Triss and Yennefer looked somewhat mollified to hear that Dracula wouldn’t be interfering much. Something that was likely a vast relief to them. As Ciri’s powers were more focused on portals, she wasn’t quite so deeply entrenched in politics. Geralt knew she kept her hand in, but if Dracula were to stir things up, she would be less affected. 

Dandelion mostly looked like he desperately wished he was taking notes. Geralt got a headache just thinking of how that story would be written.

“Geralt loves this world,” Alucard said quietly. “It’s hard to not care about something he holds so dear.”

Geralt shifted, uncomfortable. He cared, he knew he cared. Stupidly deeply at times too. He knew that; it was how he lived his life and he wasn't about to change it. Still, hearing the way Alucard spoke of him, the way he put so much meaning into his words. It made him the center of attention, the kind of attention he wasn’t used to.

“You are his family,” Dracula said unexpectedly. “It’s…not something I am used to anymore. I watched the last living member of my line die in front of me, after a thousand years of others being pitted against me like attack dogs. The fact Geralt still has his family, made by choice rather than by blood, is something I am willing to protect.” Dracula paused, looking around the room again. “Whatever darkness is in this place, it shall be no threat to you as long as you live.” The last was said with enough power Geralt could feel it in his bones, the shudder and click of it as something in the fortress changed and _bent_ to Dracula’s words the same way his castle bent.

The breath caught in Geralt’s throat and his heart thundered in his chest for a moment, so full and bright it was actually physical sensation. He looked at Dracula, momentarially at a loss for what to say. But he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss even the memory of those terrible events out of Dracula’s mind, to shower him with soft touches and sharp marks and remind him that their lives were different now. 

All that came out, though, was a hoarse, “Bed time now.” His hand tightened on Dracula’s thigh as he said it and the other sought out Alucard’s leg.

“The baths I can soundproof later. Consider it a christening gift for the room. The bedroom---” Triss said with a voice that was just a little breathy. She looked around the table and then glanced back to Geralt, “---if it’s ready I can go do that now. Sooner is probably better on that front.”

Geralt was nodding hard enough he could feel the end of his ponytail bouncing against his neck. That was a brilliant idea because he needed to touch his lovers and he was very much starting to not care where they were at when they did it.

He didn’t wait for an answer; he just stood up and grabbed hold of both Dracula and Alucard’s coats. Gently, he tugged, eyes wide, pleading with his gaze. 

Dracula smirked at him, unconcerned with anybody else present in the room. Instead of stepping over the bench, he simply burst into a swirling mass of black mist. Lambert squeaked again, flinching away from the motes brushing his arm. Then Dracula came into being just a step away from the table, his body turned to Geralt, and his red eyes watching him with palpable hunger even as the edges of his form were still assembling themselves.

Alucard had a barely there blush on his cheeks, just the faintest smudge of color dusting his pale face, but he got up and stepped away from the table with his usual grace. Shy or no, he very clearly was on the same page as Geralt.

Triss was out the door before they were with Geralt, Alucard, and Dracula just a couple steps behind. In moments they were up to his room and Geralt led the way in. 

The room looked very little like the sparse place he saw earlier that day. Heavy, dark drapes covered the windows and thick, plush rugs carpeted the whole floor. Even the stones themselves were of a darker material. A massive four post bed dominated one side of the space, strewn with pillows, furs, and sumptuous looking quilts. Perfect for the cold winter nights. All of Geralt’s extra gear, all of his books and various trappings, had been organized and displayed along the far walls.

It was a wonder but Geralt knew that it would be. Everything that Dracula touched seemed to become beautiful. 

Triss didn’t waste any time; she simply walked to the center of the room and held up her hands. A white glow settled around her wrists and intensified, tightening into an eye searing ball of light before it expanded and covered the whole room. Geralt could hear the difference instantly. The ambient sounds of the outside and the fortress itself that he long ago learned to ignore were gone. The room was filled with just the sounds they made, the rustle of clothing, the uneven breathing. Geralt could see Alucard flicking his eyes over the room, probably sensing the spell, but his lover did not ask questions.

As soon as she was done she stepped towards the door. Geralt had just enough politeness left in him to follow her there, though truly he was eager to see it closed behind her.

Triss paused right in the doorway and turned to look at him. 

“Geralt.” She hesitated a moment and then smiled. “You look really happy. I’m glad.” And then she was off, down the hall. 

Geralt shut the door and turned to look at his lovers, smiling, his heart so full it could have burst. 

“Thank you,” he said, feeling a little choked up. For being there, for making an effort with his friends. Just…Geralt was so happy they existed and that they all had a chance to meet.

Alucard stood near the middle of the room, smiling shyly. Dracula was naked already, his clothes unravelling around him as he walked towards the bed.

“Come,” he rumbled looking back at Geralt. “Show me what you feel.”

Geralt laughed, strangely eased. Dracula understood, he thought. He really did.

“Yeah,” he said reaching for his own clothes. “Yeah. I am. I will.”

And he would. With his body and his heart, he would show them both how much he loved them. Because they made him happy and they deserved to know it.

 

The End.


End file.
